


Cabin Fever

by panchostokes (badwolfrun)



Series: Prompt Fics [70]
Category: CSI: Crime Scene Investigation
Genre: Angst, Comfort, Episode: s02e19 Stalker, Fever, Gen, Post-Stalker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-05
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-03-03 02:20:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24027289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badwolfrun/pseuds/panchostokes
Summary: Nick shows up to work looking a little...off.
Relationships: Warrick Brown & Nick Stokes
Series: Prompt Fics [70]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1540795
Comments: 6
Kudos: 13





	Cabin Fever

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deltajackdalton](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deltajackdalton/gifts).



> delta sent the prompt for Nick + sick + defiant

From the minute Nick entered the locker room, Warrick knew something wasn’t right. 

He had brushed past his friend without so much as a low “hey,” which is the very least he would ever give on the worst of days.

“What’s up?” Warrick asks, attempting to soften the tense air as Nick furiously, but sluggishly, gets dressed.

 _“What?”_ Nick growls. 

_“What,”_ Warrick mocks. “What, are we not talking?”

“Got nothing to say,” Nick shrugs.

“You? Nothing to say?”

“Yeah. Me. Nothing to say.”

“You feeling okay, bro?”

“Who cares...” Nick mumbles.

“Hey! I care. C’mon man, what’s eating you?”

“Nothing, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit. You eat anything today?” Warrick rolls up his sleeves, inching closer to Nick. “Nick?”

“No...can’t keep anything down,” Nick admits sheepishly. 

“Nicky, buddy,” Warrick sighs. He holds up the back of his hand to Nick’s forehead. “You’re burning up.”

“It’s fine. I’m fine,” Nick reaffirms, batting away Warrick’s arm and sitting on the bench to tie his shoes. He does so fervently, but once the task is completed, he seems to...zone out. Takes a few deep breaths.

“Listen, man, if you need to go home--”

“No. I don’t call off unless I’m puking.”

“You’re gonna be if you don’t get your ass something to eat,” Warrick sits down on the bench facing him. Nick just grunts under his breath. “How about some water?”

“Drank a bottle on my way here. And yes, I got a ‘good night’s sleep.’“

“Somehow, I doubt that.”

Nick shoots a glare at his friend, unconsciously bringing his fingers to his neck and rubbing the fading scar. Warrick sighs as he studies the bags under Nick’s eyes, realizing his fever was most definitely the cabin type. 

“How about you go to my place, catch some z’s,” Warrick digs out his key from his pocket. “I’ll cover for you.”

“I’m already here, man. Might as well work.”

“You’re gonna work yourself into a hole, Nick. You need to _rest.”_

“I can’t,” Nick whispers, pushing Warrick’s fist back towards him. “Even in...in the new house, I just...can’t. Doesn’t feel like home to me yet.” 

“Well, how ‘bout we at least talk to Gris about giving you some light work today?”

“You kidding me? I’m not looking for special treatment--”

“It’s not special treatment--”

Nick’s glare intensifies.

“Alright, yeah, I guess, maybe a little, but...but need to take it _easy,_ Nick!”

“Easy. Just like you took it easy while I got thrown out that window?”

Warrick’s mouth gapes into a hollow chuckle, and he swings his leg over the bench, slamming his locker door shut as he starts to walk out of the room.

“Rick! I’m...I’m sorry that...That wasn’t me,” Nick calls back, slightly muffled behind the palms of the clammy hands that cover his face.

Warrick pauses, hunched over as he grips the door frame, swallowing his cheek as if he had just been punched in the face.

“I know, man. This ain’t you. You need to take care of yourself, Nick.”

“I...don’t know if I know how,” Nick admits.

“Wanna know where to start? Come here,” Warrick pulls Nick off of the bench and towards the mirror. “You see him?”

He gently shakes the sickly looking body frame of Nick Stokes.

“What does he look like he needs right now?”

“Food. And sleep. Maybe some water, too...” Nick mutters.

“And?”

“And...maybe a hug.”

Without another word, Warrick spins Nick around and pulls him into a tight embrace.

“I got you. Don’t you _ever_ forget that,” Warrick murmurs into his ear, ruffling the top of Nick’s head as they break away from the hug. “Bet that head of your’s is super dizzy, isn’t it? Might need to talk to Grissom about that.”

“I don’t wanna bug Grissom--”

“What about bugs?” 

Startled, Nick quickly wipes his face with the back of his arm, standing up straight and clearing his throat, in effort to make himself look ready for work.

Grissom, however, doesn’t bat his eyes up from his crossword for more than a few seconds before he tells the young CSI, “Take a sick day, you’ve got plenty. Look like you need one, too.” 

“Case closed. Go home, Stokes,” Warrick pats Nick on the chest, incidentally goading a few coughs out of the man before he does, reluctantly, go home.


End file.
